


Crystallize

by electricghoti



Series: Tenebrium/Take Flight [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 10 years after their relationship is started, Abelas attempts to comfort Lavellan regarding loss and her ageing companions, although he ends up being comforted regarding his own uncertainties as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystallize

He was cold. He woke to mountain wind and an unexpected absence. The blanket flung open behind him seemed to draw in chilling air by virtue of empty space alone, no longer buffered by the usual warmth of the body he was accustomed to feeling each night. He reached a hand behind him in a vain attempt to feel for her presence as he opened his eyes to search the bedroom, blinking sleepily.  
A note of unease chimed from the back of his mind in her absence, a rising fear that her mortality had overtaken her, and he had managed to sleep through the rest of her years. Had he blinked too long and woke to her an old woman forgetting her mind? On her deathbed? They were unwelcome thoughts that never failed to invade his mind during sleepless nights apart, and sometimes managed to taint their waking hours together.

He finally caught sight of her on a balcony facing distant mountains, arms hugged around herself and her face cast upward to a sky lit by a waning moon and an ocean of stars. Lonely, far away eyes were supported by an aura of melancholy he was sure she had fallen into for some time, judging by the chill of the space next to him. He was known for sorrow and past hurts, but over the years she had uplifted him back to joy in the now and to care for the past without chains to bind him there. In these familiar moments of despair he, at the very least, could give her solace from such thoughts as repayment.

She made no move to acknowledge him, even when he pressed close behind her to wrap his arms around hers, his cheek resting atop her head. “Ir abelas, I didn’t mean to wake you.” She apologized quietly, linking the fingers of her hands into his. A gesture done unconsciously and without hesitation. “It’s just unhappy, far off things keeping me awake. Not everyone is here that should be, and those that are seem to be slipping away all the same. They become a little more gray with every year. I don-”   
He sharply cut her off mid-sentence with a stern “No.” Immediately he tightened his embrace as a child might hug a stuffed toy to ward off nightmares. It was an unconscious act brought by his fears echoed aloud by the one person with whom he shared his heart. The one he wished as many memories as possible unmarred by the threat of age, or worse, the eternal life to witness those close her heart falling to death before her. 

Startled from his jarring interruption, she broke from his embrace, turning to face him with a confused expression, a small frown hiding the hurt. “No? Of all the things you could have said, I don’t think ‘no’ should have been your first choice.” An accusation spoken with increasing irritation, made in reaction to his too long pause after abruptly interrupting her confession. A mere explanation seemed insufficient, words alone not a good enough tool to express what he wished to portray. He glanced away briefly, deciding on his next action before returning to her with an apologetic expression.“Ir abelas, allow me to grant you a better explanation. Come with me.” 

He stepped backwards through the doorway before she had the chance to properly answer, grabbing a hold of her hand to tug until she relented in her resistance, committing to follow him despite her protesting. Closing the gap between them, he pulled her close, one hand at her waist, the other clasped palm to palm with hers.   
“Dancing isn’t re-”   
“Nope.” He interrupted again, this time more soft than severe. “Follow me. I will try to explain.” 

To her credit she silenced her further protests, no doubt curious of the purpose, but allowed herself to follow at his behest. A turning step the side from him signalled the start, careful not to pace too quickly until she was able to sense the direction he wished to move. He began to weave paths around the bedroom in no specific pattern, measured against a silent beat. 

He broke the companionable silence to speak, soothing and sympathetic. “It is easy to despair in the loss of what is yet to come. That you still think well of your companions honors their memory, but do not allow yourself to get pulled into death yet to come. For those of us who have no death to anticipate, this is felas sulahn - a slow song - which we learn to dance in all its tempos.”

He pressed a kiss to her mouth, pausing the dance to dip. He released her hand to support the back of her neck, while he slid his own from her waist to arch under the small of her back. Unhurried and deliberate. Nothing in this moment mattered except the feel of his body against hers. He was slow to straighten and slower to separate his lips from hers, regretfully pulling away to gauge her reaction. The next words he chose deliberately, lifting his eyebrows in anticipation. “How are you now, in this moment? Are you lingering in what you have yet to lose, or is something else that has caught your attention?”

“I don’t really remember what I was thinking. I seem to have gotten a little distracted. I think it might be heat because I feel awfully faint all of a sudden.”  
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her wry humor despite his seriousness. She appeared very much the distressed damsel with the back of her scarred hand against her forehead, knees starting to buckle as if she could collapse any second. He supposed he deserved the exaggerated teasing for distracting with such a flamboyant gesture.   
“Perhaps,” He began, reaching to remove her hand from her forehead, “that was not the wisest choice to express my intent. Something simpler then. I could…” His cadence interrupted, he found himself at a loss with how to proceed more directly without the glossing humor she might be expecting or the extended allegory used by the People before her time. 

While reassured by her patience, he frowned at the hand he still held, his fingers rubbing idly in burgeoning frustration Words usually came more easily to him, while she showed hers through actions. But tonight there seemed to be a switch in their usual song. The raised skin of her palm suddenly caught his attention, the change in texture beneath his fingers interrupted his brooding.   
Her Mark. That was the instrument he would use to conduct a new score for this song.

It had become more than simply a mark on her hand, or an icon of divine will. It had changed with her; grown in a manner in which he was uncertain of the effects. Whether it had changed her was a question to which he did not yet know the answer. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her palm. The scar sparked to life in a green flare before dissipating. The marked palm he pressed against his chest, against his heartbeat that pulsed strong and clear. “This is what you should focus on. The heartbeat of your song. What you see here, and what you feel now. I danced to a slow song of sorrow I assumed would always endure.  
Eventually, the rhythm changed in spite of what I believed. It is more exuberant now. Energetic. ...Uplifted, you might say.” He released her hand back to her possession, not bothering to suppress the crooked curve of his mouth that would betray the mischievous intent inspired by his speech. 

He quickly stepped to her side, bending to hook an arm under her knees and his other pressed against her back. The surprised squeak he earned in response to lifting her from the floor was a fond reminder of a similar memory. “I am here now, finding joy in these moments with you. My heart sings because of it, and I share its song with you.” Every word he spoke carried her closer to the balcony overlooking the garden, every word offered with intimate affection and a bright smile until stars reflected in her eyes and they both were bathed in silver light.

Here, in the cool of night, a calm stillness bade him to set her down face-to-face in front of him. He placed his hands on her shoulders to keep at least some connection, the brightness of his smile dulling a little as he spoke. “Isolation has...not been the best path to travel. Felas sulahn is not eternally sorrow, nor is it always spirited, but I have relearned that it is always better to feel regardless of the melody.”   
As I hope you will learn, as well. It was a wish he made silently to himself, a prayer saved for later when he was more certain of her mortality, or lack thereof. The subject was a flat chord that lingered as a sour note in the back of his mind. 

The thought of her as a mere flicker in his lifetime made him want to hold her tight and never let go, committing every moment of her to memory. The thought of immortality where she must learn to love and live with the weight of crumbling cultures and burying all those around her made him want to carry her to some distant and hidden place. To be her shield warding against such harsh lessons his people never had to learn until their fall. Instead, he settled for sliding his hands down her arms rest on her hips, leaning to touch his forehead to hers to hide the unease he wasn’t sure he could mask. 

Her hands were warm against his skin. One hand anchored over his heart, the other drew him from internal isolation with gentle fingers cupping his cheek. “I think I understand better what you’re trying to show me. I don’t know what I can say tonight about what the future holds other than this: I believe this our song, not just yours, and I will share mine as long as I am able.”   
This promise she sealed with the heat of her lips against his forehead.   
He could endure uncertainty a while longer, if it meant that with her he would always be warm.


End file.
